


The Most Carefully Laid Plans

by longlostintentions



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Also I changed how his apartment looks, Alternate Timeline, Blow Jobs, F/M, Fingering, Gender-neutral Reader, Happy Ending, Injury, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Magic Play, Mute Reader, Other, Overstimulation, Reader has trouble identifying their feelings, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Smut, Sorta - Canon events are mentioned, There will be warnings in the chapter notes!, They are avoidable!, Yes even the smut doesn't give the reader a sex, also kind of autistic reader?, in the last 2 chapters, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 12:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14044200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longlostintentions/pseuds/longlostintentions
Summary: He lingers over the scar left by the bullet hole, long enough to make you look down and tug gently at his hair. He breaks his gaze and looks up at you.“Nothing just... Weird that one stupid mistake can turn into...” he says, gesturing to the both of you.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Even the most carefully laid out plans can get a little... Sidetracked.Who are you kidding? This went completely off the rails.





	1. The Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Holy heck this turned into a way longer fic than it was supposed to.
> 
> There will be warnings in the chapter notes for themes people may want to avoid.  
> The sections will be clearly marked and easily avoidable.

      The air is exhaustingly hot, and you're definitely dehydrated. You haven't eaten in a while either, at least a couple days. You lost the road, and your journey lost progress as you had to work on turning yourself around. What's more, when you saw the giant wall of the crown city in the distance, you'd run most of the way. So of course now, when two guards are pointing what are undeniably weapons at you and you need more than anything to be careful, you're tired and clumsy. When they first had made the demand that you stay where you are, you kept your hands in sight and tried to think over the pounding of your heart how you could signal to them that you needed help. Your body makes the decision for you as you tiredly stumble just one more step. Before your brain can even comprehend that something has happened, a loud crack rings out and you see a spot of red very slowly blooming on your sleeve. You don't even feel the pain until you're staring at it a good 10 seconds and finally process what's happened. The combination of pain and losing fluids you don't have to spare makes you collapse.

     The next moments feel like a lifetime, and the memories are mostly a haze of darkness and unprocessed sounds and sights. What stands out most is the blue, so much blue every time the darkness ebbed. The feeling that you're falling or floating, you can't tell which, because pressure seems to be pressing in on you from all sides. The pain feels lightning hot sometimes and a dull ache at others. The final time you wake up, you're alone in a room and the big window in front of your bed tells you it's night time.

     Your bed looks sterile, and so does the room you're in. More importantly, so are the clothes you are wearing, which are definitely not the ones you put on several days ago. In fact, as you're looking around the room, they aren't anywhere to be seen. You sit up and your head is foggy, and you notice the pain in your arm instantly, but your wound is neatly wrapped in bandages.. You have no idea where you are, or who else was here, but you don't want to stick around long enough to find out. Also, you wanted your damn clothes back. Before you can even conjure up a plan, you hear a click and see the door open. You jump and look over to see a straight faced guard standing in your doorway,  
“You walk?” he asks gruffly. You're not too sure actually. You slide your legs off the side of the bed, shivering at the cold. You stand shakily, hoping you won't get shot again. When it's clear you won't fall over you nod, and he gestures out the door.

“Got a meeting with the captain.”

     That sounds intimidating, but he's holding out his hand expectantly and you don't really have much choice but to go and avoid another injury. He makes his disdain clear when he grabs your injured arm, steering you jerkily down the hall and through another door. You stop but he doesn't let go, and right as you're wondering what he'd do if you passed out, you feel the pressure release. Your awareness goes back to the room around you and you see another man next to you and the guard. He is dressed differently, but he still has a weapon, and the air of someone who wouldn't hesitate to use it. He has the guard's wrist in his hand.

“I know it's hard for you, but try not being an ass for a few minutes,” he snips. The guard yanks his wrist free and is ready to retort when the door opens and they're forced to attention. A man with clear authority walks in, looking around the room, narrowing his eyes at you briefly. You keep your eyes down, and feel suddenly vulnerable.

“Who brought a stranger directly into the Citadel?” he speaks slowly and dangerously. The man who saved you from blacking out just now raises his hand almost callously. You hear the other man, the captain you suppose, sigh.

“Of course....” he walks closer to stand in front of the two of you.  
“Mind telling me what you were thinking?” his voice is still calm, but it's clearly a warning. Either the man doesn't notice, or he doesn't care, because he is still fearless.

“I was thinking a stranger showed up on our doorstep needing help, _sir_ ,” he keeps his face completely neutral, but his attitude seeps through. How on earth does he still have a job?!

“So take 'em to the damn hospital,” the captain sounds like he has this chat every week. The man rapid fires a response like he was waiting for this.

“Well I would have, but I thought it might stir up a panic if the public thought Insomnia has started shooting its refugees,” he punctuated the last few words with a leer over to another man to his right you hadn't noticed before. He looks indignant.

“That wasn't--” he starts to protest but the captain shuts him down with a look and a wave of his hand. You recognize the voice, the man who told you to stay, the man who shot you. The captain looks like he's considering it, and hating himself for doing so.

“Until the wound heals, no longer. And keep an eye on 'em until then,” he says, pointing at the man. The man looks a little affronted.

“Why me?” he asks incredulously. You can't help feeling a little offended. The guards exit, looking smug, waiting for the captain outside the door.

“You bring home a stray, Ulric, you take care of it,” he growls as he starts to walk away. The man relaxes his posture a little and calls after him.

“This really how you're gonna use my talent?” he says tauntingly.

“Think of it as a temporary demotion, for being stupid,” offered the captain before disappearing out of sight completely. You sigh until you remember you're left alone in a room with a man you don't know, nothing familiar around you at all. You look sideways at him, and he does the same before breaking out into a grin and escorting you back to your room. You notice he doesn't take your arm.

     When you get into the room, you nervously back up towards your bed, keeping your eyes on him. He looks half amused and half concerned, though in your defense, he isn't taking his eyes off you either. You climb back onto your bed, torn between trying to find an escape route and not letting your guard down.

“Can I take a look?” he asks, nodding to your arm. You cautiously start to reach for his outstretched hand, before shying away.

“You look like you're expecting me to bite your hand off,” he throws out. You gesture towards the door looking exasperated and he seems to get it.

“Right, sorry about that,” he says, surprising you.  
“If he knew I wanted to do this he'd never let me,” he finishes with a smile, and you can't help smiling back just a little bit, offering him your arm.

“You _can_ smile, I was getting worried,” he says, slowly starting to unwrap the bandages on your arm. You roll your eyes and gesture to your now exposed wound.

“This is gonna hurt,” he intercepts as he prepares to disinfect and redress.

“You can thank our new trigger happy rookie for that. Gate Watchers are assholes on a good day, throw a panicky kid into the mix...” he trails off and lets go of your arm. You move it, testing it out, and realize it doesn't hurt quite as bad.

“All good?” he asks. You nod.

“Not too inclined to talk. Okay, do I get to know your name? I get the feeling Outsider's gonna get old pretty quickly,” he quips. You look around you a little before dragging your left hand over your right in a mimic of writing. You suppose you ought to be thankful you weren't shot in your dominant arm. Small mercy.

“A- A pen?- You want a pen? And paper?” he tries to decipher. You nod vigorously. He turns and rummages through a desk nearby, finally unearthing a small pad of paper and a pen, tossing them onto your lap. He watches you write with interest as he pulls up a chair to straddle by your bedside.

“So you just, what, can't talk?” he muses. You nod again as you finish writing your name on the paper. He takes the pad and reads it over.

“______?” he asks, eyeing you over the top of the note pad. The way he says it makes your pulse stutter a little.

“I like it,” he says casually and tosses the paper back on the bed. You narrow your eyes and point at him with the pen. He smiles and offers a lazy hand.

“Nyx. Ulric.”

You try out the name in your mouth. The way it rolls off your tongue so effortlessly brings a spurt of giddiness bubbling up your throat, escaping you soundlessly. You still cover your mouth self-consciously, but he just smiles.

“Does it sound that funny?” he asks. You shake your head and mouth a 'Sorry' but his smile never leaves. He seems to be enjoying watching you fumble.

“You wouldn't be the first. Easy to tell I'm not from here either,” he shrugs. You look up at him in surprise, you hadn't noticed before but now it's more obvious. You absentmindedly scoot closer as your eye catches the subtle, intricate facial tattoos, and you don't realize you're moving your hand as you study the braids half hidden on either side of his head. Until all at once it hits you and you move back, blushing and grabbing your note pad.

_Sorry! I must be more tired than I thought!_

You had never met anyone from Galahd before, though you'd learned bits and pieces about the culture.

“Again, you're not the first,” he reassures.

Before you have time to respond he's standing up and putting the chair back.

“Your arm won't get any better if you don't get some sleep. But it looks like I'll see you again tomorrow.”

You're still half processing what he says by the time he leaves the room a little unceremoniously. Suddenly the room feels bigger and emptier, and you curl up under your blanket trying to fall asleep.


	2. Knock

     The sound of a knock is what stirs you back to consciousness. You blink in the morning light, wondering if what you heard was real or just part of your dream. Then it comes again, a little louder. You struggle to think of a way to signal your approval and end up knocking back on the wooden nightstand. You hear all movement on the other side of the door cease. Then slowly the door starts to open, the person clearly feeling there was an equal chance of having misinterpreted your response. When you see Nyx you wave him in. He looks from your fist on the nightstand to your hand waving and seems to make the connection.

“Hungry?” he asks, and you realize he's carrying a tray. Before you can answer, your stomach makes a noise loud enough to make you suddenly interested in everything except looking at him. He huffs out a laugh, setting the tray down on the bed. The spread is eggs, seasoned Leiden potatoes, and thick cuts of some kind of meat.

“Grabbed it from the kitchen before they tried to give you the shit they feed us,” he says. You smile and nab your notebook from the side table.

_I'm so hungry I think I could eat anything, but thanks._

“Enjoy it, cause I probably won't get away with it again,” he says with a salute, and you have to choke back a laugh as he leaves.

     The next time he shows up, you're standing at the window looking out at the city. The size is much more daunting than you anticipated. When he knocks, you lean over and knock back on a dresser, and you're pleased to hear he doesn't hesitate this time. He stands next to you, looking over the city with you.

“Ever been to the Crown City before?” he asks. You shake your head, pressing a nervous hand to the cold glass.

“What were you doing out there?” he prods. You take the notepad from your pocket, you'd decided to keep it on you.

_Trying to get here_

“From where?”

_A little town that isn't around anymore_

He says nothing but nods. It was becoming a more and more acceptable answer nowadays. With people migrating here as the imperial army swept through the lands and any opposition being met with a raze. They hoped life would be better in the last holdout with any kind of defense. There were getting to be so many so fast, the city was becoming packed.

“Got a plan?” he asks curiously. You just shake your head.

“Pretty gutsy.”

_Didn't have much choice_

You yawn and lift your bad arm to rub your eyes, wincing and grabbing at it, a little unsteady on your feet from the pain.

“Gonna take more than half a night of sleep to fix you up, and the meds aren't gonna let you do much else anyways. Take a nap,” he walks you over to the bed. You're suddenly too tired to protest anyways. He presses a cup of water into your hands.

“And keep your fluids up.”

_Yes mom_

He looks exasperated when he turns to leave the room.

“Oh, and you're kind of under quarantine so just.... Make it easy on both of us and don't try anything.”

     The thunder of footsteps, a thousand boots, a million, stomping over the streets of town. So many soldiers you can't even count them. The streetlights glint off their walking corpses and the sound of whirring as white noise. Then the gunfire, and the delayed screams of townspeople. Friends, family, neighbors. Your brain is telling you not to go outside, but you have no control here. You're on the lawn, and the MTs are marching past you in the street. Your lover is running towards you and you want to reach out and touch them. A flash of blinding light and they're gone. You don't see it, but you know they're dead. You want to make your legs move, to get out and disappear forever. Instead you collapse onto the grass. You can't even move as you see one of the soldiers marching towards you. Nor when you see one materialize in your peripheral. Finally as it prepares to swing down its weapon you lash out, stumbling to your feet and thrusting your arms out in the blind hope that you might throw it off balance.

     You wake up panting, sitting up and waving your arms desperately. Your hand connects with something cold and a second later the shattering of glass breaks the afternoon silence. It startles you and you scream, hearing it materialize in nothing but a rush of air. As you start coming around and taking in your surroundings, you try to get your panting under control. A knock on the door makes you jump again and you can't move for a second. At first, you irrationally worry the MT in your dream has found you. Then when your mind clears you go on autopilot and knock back.

Nyx peeks in curiously and you feel the slightest inkling of relief. He's looking around as he walks in.

“Heard something break, what--” he stops when he catches sight of the glass on the floor. He looks to you for answers but your face only leaves him more confused. He avoids the glass as he sidles up to your bedside.

“What happened?”

You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes for a second, sighing. But closing your eyes just brings images from your dream back and you stiffen. Your eyes are blurry and you reach up to dry your face, you hadn't even realized you were crying. You grab your notepad and lower your face to hide it.

_Just a nightmare_

You force yourself to smile at him, though he doesn't seem to buy it.

_Sorry to worry you over nothing_

He leans up against the nightstand and looks out of the window.

“When the empire invaded I didn't sleep for three days, I had to pass out just to lay down for more than a few minutes.”

You wring your hands and cast a look up at him, briefly admiring his handsome profile in the orange afternoon light starting to bathe the room. When you yawn again it catches his attention.

“Don't suppose there's any chance you're gonna fall asleep again on your own,” he says. You rub your eyes and let out a strained sigh, you were so tired but you couldn't even close your eyes without feeling awful. He lets out a hum and straightens up, you peek back out at him.

“Alright, sit tight. I've got an idea,” he says, turning and heading out of your room leaving you a little baffled.

     When he retirns he's holding a mug and you can see it steaming from across the room. He crosses and thrusts it into your hands. It immediately starts to warm you up and calm you down.

“Drink up,” he says. You lean in to smell. It was sweet, it smells like berries and cinnamon but it isn't tea, it's thicker than that. You look up and mouth a 'What' at him. He smiles with his fists on his hips.

“What do you mean 'what'? What proper Lucian kid never had Calberry Milk before bed? It even caught on back home,” he teases. You smile and take a sip, feeling the warmth fill you up. Already you can feel your body relaxing again.

_Did you make it?_

“Hell no. The Prince's own personal cook uses the castle kitchens to practice sometimes.”

You will never understand royalty.

_The_ _ Prince _ _has his own cook?_

Nyx just smiles.

“Not technically. Unofficially though he's pretty much the only one who can get His Highness to eat anything. He's got talent, that's for sure.”

You stop writing long enough to have another sip and have to take care not to spill when the door swings open and a guard bursts in. You both turn to look at him.

“Ulric! Drautos is looking for you. I'm taking over your post,” he says stiffly. Nyx sighs.

“Alright, tell him I'll be right there,” he starts but the guard interrupts him

“ _Now_ Ulric!”

Nyx turns back to you, rolling his eyes.

“Guess that's that. Try to go back to sleep, huh?” he says, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving. He's kind enough to force the guard out of the room with him. The touch lingers, comforting as you finish your drink and work up the courage to lay back down to sleep.

 


	3. Cleanliness

 

     The door creaks loudly as you open it and you hope it doesn't attract any unwanted attention. You take a breath to steel yourself and step into the corridor, completely unsure which way to go. You look for signs, but there are none in the immediate hallway. As you take another echoing step, a voice behind you makes you jump.

“Got somewhere to be?”

You turn to see Nyx standing outside your door completely at attention except for his head turned towards you. You sigh and shift the extra set of clothes you'd found in the dresser so you can write.

_I could really use a shower_

He frowns as he reads.

“Right...” he says thoughtfully, as the gears turn. Finally he walks next to you and points down the hall.

“We don't have guests very often, but I can take you to the Guard showers. Glaive lockers are off-limits,” he shrugs. You frown at the ground with worry.

_What if someone comes in?_

_Am I gonna get shot again?_

The question makes him smile just a little.

“I'll keep watch. That _is_ my job.”

     You head into the shower room, the stalls are open save for a flimsy curtain and there isn't even a door on the place. It makes you nervous being so exposed, but you're so filthy you'll have to take what you can get. It looks like each stall is armed with small, complimentary cleaning products. It's a relief, hot water would have been fine, but actual cleanliness would be a blessing. You're torn between wanting to stay forever and enjoy the comfort of the warm water, and not wanting to make Nyx wait too long. When you turn off the water and wrap the towel around you for warmth, you hear voices.

“Out of the way, Glaive,” a voice says with clear disdain. It piques your interest and you peek around the wall enough to glimpse the doorway where Nyx's figure stands formally. Two guards are in front of him, sneering.

“These showers are closed for maintenance,” he lies smoothly. The guards huff.

“And they got a Glaive keeping watch?” one of them asks with suspicion. The other one laughs derisively.

“Didn't you hear? Ulric's been demoted to castle work. Guess he's got nothin' better to do than bein' a maid,” they continue. Your hackles raise but Nyx seems to be completely unaffected.

“Guess not,” he replies with great nonchalance. They seem irritated that all their probing is going unnoticed. When it's clear he isn't going to move they start to march away but you can still catch snippets of their conversation.

“These immigrants are all the same, think they're somethin' special cause they can...” they get too far before you can hear the rest of the conversation. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and dry off your hair to change.

     Nyx turns as the sound of your footsteps and moves aside to let you out. You fish your notepad out from your other clothes.

_Does that happen often?_

The smile he gives is almost apologetic.

“You heard that, huh? Yeah, often enough,” he says. The fact that it doesn't bother him bothers you, but there isn't much you can say.

_Whats up with that?_

He shakes his head.

“Some people here think Galahd shouldn't be considered part of Lucis,” he explains and you blink in confusion.

_Why?_

“Who knows? Some people think the islands are too separated from the mainland, some people think the culture is too different, some people don't like that we were here first,” he says with a note of amused antagonism. You look up in surprise.

_Really?_

_It was native to Solheim?_

He scoffs.

“We were here long before Solheim formed,” he says proudly. You exhale in amazement. You tap your cheek thoughtfully.

_I would like to visit one day_

He smiles a little fondly.

“Well, it's not what it was, but we'll get there again,” he says with attempted confidence.

When you arrive at your room he returns to his station by the door.

_Thanks_

_For everything I mean_

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says casually and makes to turn back to his business until he catches you out of his peripheral. The name affects you, despite your best efforts, making you narrow your eyes to the floor. You feel warm. From the look on his face you have the distinct feeling you've made a terrible mistake in your moment of weakness, and are absolutely doomed. When you go into the room you can still hear him laughing to himself.

     The next time Nyx comes to drop off an elixer by your bedside he's sporting a fresh cut on his cheek.

“Thought you could use something a little stronger,” he says, clinking the bottle down. Potions were good enough for temporary physical pain relief, but elixers helped with the mental exhaustion of healing too. It was something you could definitely use. You motion to his wound and he, for whatever reason, subconsciously reaches up to touch it which makes him wince a little.

“Training with a special guest,” he explains. He fixes you up with fresh bandages on your arm, pressing around the tender skin.

“Little gift from the Marshal for trying to catch him off guard.”

You raise your eyebrows at him.

_Are you always that impulsive?_

He tightens the bandage and you grip the bedsheets, feeling a wave of pain shoot through your arm.

“Depends on who you ask. The way I see it, it's part of the job,” he says with a shrug.

_I bet your girlfriend loves seeing you come home with new bruises every day_

He just blinks at the note for a second and you worry you've crossed some kind of line. Instead he just smiles.

“Dunno. She might, if I had one.”

_Boyfriend?_

_Partner?_

He shakes his head. Huh, now that is surprising.

“What? That hard to believe?” he asks as he cleans up the supplies.

_A little_

 


	4. Piece of Home

     When Nyx knocks it takes a few seconds to receive an aggravated knock back. He peeks in and flashes you an amused smile when he sees you pacing furiously.

“Something on your mind?” he leans against the door as he asks. You grab your notepad and pause long enough to write one large word on it, flashing it with a desperate look.

_ BORED!! _

He laughs at your exasperation.

“Yeah, wondered if you'd get cabin fever being stuck in here for a week.”

You sigh and go over to flop back on your bed. It's a mistake, the bed is not that comfortable. And now your arm hurts on top of everything. Nyx glances at the door before walking over and leaning over you.

“I could probably sneak you out of here for a bit, in exchange for a look at that arm.”

You bolt upright and look at him with wide eyes. He takes the chance to sit and unravel your bandages.

“Drautos is sending me into the city to play fetch for him, don't see why you shouldn't come along. Besides, he said to keep an eye on you,” he says slyly.

_Don't get yourself into trouble_

_AGAIN_

“If this is my punishment for getting into trouble I'd say it's worth it,” he comments, lightly pressing a sterilized cloth to the wound as he studies it for infection. The sentiment tugs at your heart a little.

“Looks like the skin's healing pretty well. Come on,” he concludes, nodding towards the door.

You grin and jump up immediately, throwing on a jacket and tucking your notepad in your pocket. Just the chance to see the city and get some air that wasn't through a window was exciting. He opens the door cautiously, glancing up and down the hall before waving you out with him. You stick close, but you both try to look as normal as possible. Well, you try to look like you belong there, he looks confident and determined, which fits him like a suit. When you reach the gate of the Citadel he reaches back and puts a hand on your shoulder to halt you. You can see someone standing in front of him but you don't want to look out of fear of drawing too much attention.

“You off duty, Glaive?” the person interrogates.

“Orders from Drautos ,” he responds calmly. The person, presumably a guard, folds his arms.

“Guess you won't mind if I ask him then,” the guard says smugly. Nyx doesn't take the bait.

“Why don't I save you the trouble and ask him myself?” he shoots back and taps the radio earpiece on him. The guard seems to decide he isn't lying, or at least it wasn't worth picking a battle over, and steps aside to let the two of you pass.

      As intimidating as the city looked, you think at first that you're doing okay. Then you get onto a main thoroughfare and hesitate, the noises and smells barraging your senses. You feel a hand on your back, urging you forward gently, and take a breath as you start walking again.   
“When I first got here I had no idea how I was gonna survive in a city this big. I'd never seen anything like it,” he starts, keeping his focus on his surroundings. He leads you over a walkway overpass and you head for a side street. You start smelling food stalls and hearing the movement of tons of people. You wait for him to finish his story but there is nothing more. The message is clear: He made his way and so can you.

      He never quite stops, but walks slow enough to let you have a look at everything around you. There was the food, both raw ingredients and cooked dishes. Some of the things you'd never even known existed, much less seen. Then there were the other wares, from crafts to weapons. Along the sides of the street, shops make up two walls of buildings with no gaps between them. Some of them have doors, some of them are nothing but windows. You'd never seen so many shops in one place, and this was just one street in this enormous city.

      Nyx stops in front of a store at the end of the block, from what you can see in the window display you can't imagine what the captain of a squad of elite, royal soldiers would need from here. Maybe it's a front for something... As your guide weaves through people to get to the door, your eye is caught by something shining to your left. The sun glinting off a highway sign pointing the way downtown. Briefly the thought occurs to you that it would be easy to sneak away and be lost in the city. Free from the tense monotony of the Citadel.

“______?”

You hear your name coming from somewhere, distantly.

“______.”

The voice is more insistent and you blink back to attention, to see Nyx ushering you into the store. He looks at you sternly, but his voice is more of a plea.

“Don't make me regret bringing you out here...” he says, watching you closely. You give one last look at the sign before nodding at him, pushing your way into the store. You don't know how you'd survive out there on your own right now anyways...

He walks up to the counter, leaning on it and pointing at you.

“Stay in the store,” he warns. You sigh and cross your heart, and see his mouth start to turn up before you turn to browse the shelves. Out of the corner of your eye you see Nyx talking lowly to the man at the counter, fishing out a note and placing it on the counter, giving it a tap. As the man reads the note, Nyx catches your eye, and you startle, moving to another aisle out of view. You get distracted by a small, stuffed, white moogle. You break into a wide smile as you walk over to it, tracing the stitching on it's face. It looks like it's the last one, a little bit battered but full of character. You see Nyx in your peripheral before he speaks.

“You like moogles?” he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. You nod exuberantly at him, smiling.

_They're so cute!_

_This one reminds me of a doll I had when I was little_

_I made my brother read me stories about them_

_I liked the ones with pictures since I'd never seen a real one_

You reach out to stroke the plush doll and your smile widens. It's so soft! He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the man from the counter, who was now holding something wrapped up. Nyx nods towards the door and you make a head start while he picks up the package.

       You're distracted by the view of the city when he pushes something in front of you, you back up and focus your eyes. It's food. You bite your lip, caught between a protest and the realization that you haven't eaten all day. You sigh and take out your notepad.

_Just this once_

He must catch your smile after you take a bite.

“Good, right?”

You nod and hesitate to put it down because now you're a little ravenous.

_What is it?_

“Cockatrice,” he says, taking another bite while he contemplates.   
“Was comfort food back home. Course it tastes.... Different here.”

You want to hear more about home, but you know better than to press.

_Worse?_ You grin up at him. He casts a quick glance around and nods. It makes you laugh.

_Back home my favorite food was the Kjrstich my Mama made_

He just looks confused.

“Never heard of it.”

Crap. Maybe it was a local thing. You're saved the awkwardness when he stretches and tosses the empty tray in the garbage.

“Guess they're probably wondering where I am by now.”

      A ways from your room, he excuses himself saying he needed to report back to Drautos . You can find your own way. This will let you take your time getting back there anyways, allowing yourself marvel at the Citadel décor. When you open your door, the room looks even smaller after the chaos of the city streets. It takes you a second to notice something sitting on your bed. At first you think it's alive, but after watching it for a few tense seconds it doesn't move. Then it looks familiar, and the closer you get, the wider you smile. You sit on the bed and pick up the little moogle, giving it a snuggle and burying your face in it's soft body. You like the way it smells like the shop downtown... And a little like Nyx.

      When you went out for a walk the next morning you genuinely intended to go to the courtyard, or the kitchen, or even the bathrooms! Instead, your feet carried you to the training yard where the Glaives were running drills. You stood next to a pillar in the walkway on the outside of the yard, keeping out of the way but still getting a good view. You liked watching fighting techniques, maybe it helps you feel less powerless. Maybe it is some side effect of losing your home to war and being unable to do anything... Or maybe you just liked seeing Nyx.

You couldn't let him know you even _considered_ that as a possibility. You'd never hear the end of it. Your eyes, however, do naturally latch on to him. So you watch, just for a few seconds. At least it feels that way. For a second you think he spots you, then someone walks in front of him and he's gone. You don't expect a dagger to bury itself in the pillar next to you 3 seconds later and make you stumble back in surprise. And even though you probably should, you definitely don't expect Nyx to appear half a second later in a flash of blinding color making you fall on your ass. You blink a few times and he grins down at you, wresting his blade from the pillar.

“You know I charge by the hour,” he taunts and offers a hand to help you up. You huff and take it, wincing as you stand.

_Who says I was looking at you?_

His mouth quirks up and he looks back out at the training yard, trying to look inconspicuous probably.

“Ouch, should I be jealous?” he jokes. You let out a laugh and follow his gaze.

“How'd you sleep? No nightmares?” he asks. You shake your head.

_Some kind person left me a cute present that kept them at bay_

He whistles and gives you a sideways glance.

“Sounds like you've got a pretty charming admirer,” he says, somehow straight faced. You give him a playful shove.

_Seriously though_

_Thanks_

He nods and reaches up to tug on a bead in one of his braids, you're not even sure if he realizes he's doing it.

“Everyone needs a piece of home,” he says, then rubs your back ever so briefly before taking a running start and warping back into the mess in another flash of light.

 


	5. Origins vs. Home

      You're so absorbed in your book you don't notice a presence in front of you until a foot nudges your chair. Nyx stands in front of you with arms crossed and despite your smile he isn't looking at you. Instead his eyes are locked onto the stack of books near you, Lucian history books, and he isn't smiling. He nods towards the door of the library and you nod nervously, setting your book down. Something is definitely wrong, and the thought of him being upset with you makes you feel a little sick. He's walking back to your room, and quicker than normal. You have to walk at least two steps for every one of his, and he wont let you lag behind. Part of you is relieved to reach the room and catch your breath, the rest is dreading the crackling tension you feel around him. When you both enter he turns and you hear the click of the lock, now your blood feels like it's slowly turning to ice from your fingertips up. Your body backs itself up numbly until you hit the bed and you sit tensely on the edge of it. When he speaks he's calm, but he's talking lowly.

“I went and read up on that dish you talked about, the one you remember from home,” he prefaces. You think you know where this might be going, suddenly you wish you weren't on the 5th floor so you might have had a chance of surviving a fall out the window. He starts walking towards you slowly, keeping his eyes trained on you.

“Turns out the reason I'd never heard of it... The monster's native to Niflheim. Too warm everywhere else. So...How'd you get your hands on it?” he finally asks. You can't read his voice and it makes you nervous. You can feel the fear numbing your brain. You'd been so careful and now....

He seems to be holding himself back from moving closer, keeping his arms crossed. There's no way around it. If you try to run he'd hold you back, you couldn't survive the fall out the window, and you couldn't possibly fight him off. Your hands shake as you retrieve your notepad and pen.

_I'm a Niff_

Now it was out. His jaw is working as he reads, and you don't want to look at his eyes to gauge what he's feeling. He starts to pace, running his hand through his hair.

“You lied to me?” he accuses, and you frown, shaking your head adamantly.

_I didn't_

_My town was overrun_

“By Lucians?”

You shake your head. He doesn't look like he believes you.

“Why would Niffs destroy their own towns?” he interrogates. You huff and gain a minute amount of confidence seeing that he wasn't about to kill you in the next few minutes.

_You think Nif cares about its own people anymore?_

_Something happened to the Imperial family_

_No one knows what but the whole country can feel it_

_Whatever they're doing stopped being for the people and started being for the power_

As Nyx flips through the pages to read you can see his shoulders untense a little. He is still studying you hard, and you try to meet his gaze.

“What happened to your town?”

You frown and shrug.

_I don't know exactly_

_People were disappearing from the town, just like a lot of other towns_

_The mayor said she knew why_

_Before the rest of us found out the army invaded_

_The mayor was taken away and we were under “temporary military rule” for a while_

_Then a few weeks ago the town was razed under suspicion of conspiracy to overthrow the Emperor_

He looks shocked, but at least he doesn't look angry anymore.

“Why come all the way to Lucis? Why not Gralea?” he continues, a little softer this time.

_Towards the people who killed my neighbors and family?_

_As far as I'm concerned I have no home_

_But I'd heard good things about the Crown City once I got into Lucis_

He sighs and you start to relax, letting go of your pad and scooting back on the bed. He seems to come to a decision and grabs the notepad, tearing out all evidence of your conversation and going over to toss it in the flames conquering the fireplace. The intensity of the act makes you tense, but when he goes back to you he looks more resolved than anything.

“Not a word of this to anyone. Who knows how much more hassle we'll get for bringing a Niff right into the castle.”

You nod numbly, still coming down off the adrenaline, and write shakily.

_Do you trust me?_

The question appears to catch him off guard.

“Course I do.”

You aren't sure if you wholly believe him, but you want to. For your own sanity, for the sake of getting the inexplicable pit out of your stomach, for the peace of mind to get some damn sleep tonight.

     That night, the nightmares are swift and full force. Fire, crying, marching, gunfire, hefty thuds of bodies hitting the ground. And a new face. Nyx's. That is about when your body tears itself from sleep, sending your brain into a confused panic and making you gasp for air around the dream smoke and real tears. Nyx isn't there this time, of course not, and you chastise yourself for being disappointed. He never worked at night. Still, with everything that had happened that day, you need to let it out. So you hug your knees and let yourself cry, comforted that you don't really need to hold back. You're wrapped up in trying to control your sobbing that is wrenching itself from somewhere inside you that you can't really pick out, you definitely don't expect to hear a knock at your door. It startles you and makes you hiccup slowly to a stop as you reach over and knock back. The door opens and you can't tell if you're relieved or worried that Nyx is quietly making his way into your room and to your bedside. He's still in fatigues, and he looks pretty tired. He offers a small smile all the same and picks up your moogle from where it's fallen on the floor to drop it back on your lap. He nudges you to scoot over and make room.

“Figured it would be a rough night, told Drautos I wanted to stay late and lock up. Was worth it just to see him try to figure out what I was up to,” he says mischievously and it makes you laugh, swiping at your wet face with dry hands. He climbs in and reclines next to you, letting you scoot in close. He kisses the top of your head and you relax a little Now you believe him.

 


	6. Bruises

     When Nyx knocks you're almost too absorbed in your doodling to remember to knock back. Then you hear movement outside your door and remember yourself, reaching over to knock quickly. You finish a couple details while he comes over to sit on your bed next to you. You flash him a smile and he does the same as he carefully takes your arm captive, unwinding your bandages and trying not to ruin your drawing too much.

“You're looking pretty good, maybe you can finally get out of this cell soon,” he jokes casually. For some reason, the notion makes some part of you panic, so you simply keep still except for gripping your pencil a little tighter. He doesn't seem to notice, or at least doesn't say anything.

“Actually I was coming to tell you I gotta go out in the field for a while.”

This news makes you stop drawing and cast a worried look his way.

“Probably wont be long, never is really. Someone else is just gonna check on you for a while.”

You sigh and nod.

_Just make sure you come back to me_

You immediately question yourself, but it appears he doesn't mind. In fact you're suddenly very aware he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and his hands had slid down to play with yours instead.

“Six, what kind of guy do you think I am?” he quips. You look at him skeptically.

_The reckless kind_

This makes him laugh and he tugs you close to kiss your forehead before standing and heading towards the door.

“Behave, alright?”

You cross your heart and he graces you with one more smile before leaving.

     You eventually make the guard who has been checking up on you take you to the library. He wont let you go anywhere alone, and the demure attitude you first had with the guards has finally worn thin. The sheer amount of books is staggering, but a welcome sight. You could spend hours just looking at the spines. Somewhere between Ancient Lucian Architecture and Military History you reach the end of a shelf and immediately dive back into hiding. Around the corner, sitting at a table and decidedly not looking at the paperwork in front of him was undoubtedly the Crown Prince. You sneak another curious look. He looks so young... You space out and don't realize he's met your gaze until it's too late. Your eyes widen and you duck back behind the shelf. Okay, time to find another section to look at. You press the heels of your palms to your eyes and try to block out the awkwardness. You're stopped when you run into a very solid, and much bigger, body. You jump back. The man is intimidating and scarred and tattooed and even though he doesn't look particulaly _mad_ he does look suspicious.

“Got some business with His Highness?” he asks, crossing his arms at you. You flush deeply, you hadn't realized anyone else noticed, and shake your head. You reach into your pocket for your notepad and he tenses like he's preparing for something. You freeze and nervously pull it out, watching him relax a little.

_Sorry_

_I was just curious_

He seems to decide you're not a threat, and looks more amused than anything. As the guard escorts you out of the library a short time later, much shorter than you'd have liked, you can feel eyes on your retreating back. You aren't sure if it's in your head or an actuality, but you don't want to look around and find out. You guess you can already cross Behave from the list.

      Halfway through the second week you find that you miss Nyx so much you're glad nobody is around for you to be grumpy with, because your mood has soured with the rough treatment from the guards. Maybe you were spoiled, but you liked to think that basic decency was something you had a right to expect. It was because of this that when you hear a knock on the door, your heart nearly jumps out of your mouth. Guards never knocked, which could only mean one thing. You carefully untangle your legs from the blankets and trot to the door, throwing it open. Nyx looks as surprised as you, like he wasn't expecting you to greet him at such a velocity. Your demeanor does a complete upheaval and you smile widely, not hesitating to wrap your arms around him. It elicits a groan from him but he keeps you from pulling away by wrapping his own arms around your shoulders, walking you back so he can close the door. He rests his head on top of yours and you think you feel a light kiss or two until you pull back to give him some air. Immediately you notice two things.

He looks completely worn down, and his face is covered in mature bruises. You must look alarmed because he laughs it off.

“This is nothing, my second week here I nearly fractured my ribcage.”

You squint at him then sigh and shake your head. At least it looks like nothing is too damaged, and he seems to be in good enough spirits. He walks you back to the bed.

“How'd everything go here?” he asks cautiously. You roll your eyes.

_About as well as you think_

He huffs in frustration but you smile to cut him off.

_Don't worry about it_

_Go to bed you look like you could sleep for a week_

Nyx lays back on the bed.

“I just might,” he says tiredly. You sigh.

_If you're gonna sleep with me at least scoot over_

He smiles impishly.

“If you wanted to get me in bed you should've asked.”

You kick him in response and he winces. You're only half sorry.

You're really only sorry when he sits up and stretches.

“I got a bed waiting for me, I'll see you in a week,” he jokes, standing and starting to leave.

You tug on his arm and he looks back at you.

_Thanks for coming back to me_

You kiss his hand goodnight since it looks significantly less bruised than his cheek. He returns the gesture.

“Didn't I tell you I would? Needed _something_ to keep me going out there,” he says and lets go of your hand to leave. His comment sticks with you. Being a source of motivation for him makes you giddy in a lovely sort of way. When you lay down to go to sleep you feel more at peace than you have in a while.

 


	7. You Won't Like The Answer

      When you wake up it's raining, a perfect representation of your mood. The gods must have a weird sense of humor. You pull the blanket over your head, hoping that maybe if you fall back asleep, the day will pause. Instead a knock thunders through the room. You hesitate but he wont leave and you know it. You relent and knock gently on the nigthstand. Nyx leans against the door frame and smiles at you, but it's hollow.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he calls. You sit up and stretch, waving him in. He wanders over, resting some paperwork on your lap.

“Got your papers, keep 'em safe.”

He keeps you company as you pack your bag, not that there's much to pack. An extra set of clothes, the rest of the gil you brought with you, your moogle. You look around the room and feel a pang of affection for your month-long prison.

_I'd better see you around_

You share a pained look before he shoots another smile your way.

“Course you will.”

Even if you both know it's probably a lie, you want to take comfort in it. There's a strange tightness in your chest, it feels like it's imploding on itself.

Nyx brings a hand up to his radio headpiece and murmurs an assent.

“Alright, kiddo. Time to ship out,” he says, waving you out the door. You take a deep breath and sling your pack over your shoulder. Nyx keeps a comforting hand at your back as you both walk down the halls. With each step your brain fills with more and more doubt. The safety of the Citadel is all you've known in the city, and suddenly you'll be all alone. The thought of leaving Nyx here makes you want to dig your heels in and cling to the drapes. His voice brings you out of your own head.

“Currency exchange is just outside the Citadel, in the direction of the train station. You'll have to trade in your gil,” he advises. You only nod, staring at the empty space in front of you.

      Your stomach knots the closer you get to the gate, and you're thankful for the small mercy that Nyx is the only one around. At least the only one paying attention. When you finally stop you feel like your legs are going to fail you. The city looks so big from here, how would you ever find your way around? Your head starts swimming and your whole body tenses; the thought of drowning yourself in the fountain is suddenly greatly appealing. You don't notice your panicked breathing until Nyx grips your shoulder tightly and turns you towards him.

“Hey. You're gonna be fine,” he reassures, making you look at him. You snake your arms around him and rest your forehead on his chest, and slowly you automatically sync your breathing with his and feel your body relax He leans in and murmurs against the top of your head.

“You didn't really think I was gonna send you out there empty handed...?”

You pull back and look at him as he pushes a brand new pad of paper into your hands. The first page is already written on.

“After you get money go to the subway, there's a station not far from there. Take the green line and get off here,” he taps the paper. You read along with his instructions.

“That's where most of the refugees are herded. But there's getting to be a lot of us so it's pretty big. Look for this restaurant in the southern end, the owner's an old friend and he helps people out with temporary housing sometimes. Tell him I sent you.”

You grip the paper tightly and take a deep breath.

“Stay safe out there,” he says, placing a quick stroke on your cheek before letting you go. You nod and turn because you'll be damned if you let him see you cry over something like this, and you know if you keep looking at him you'll do just that. Every step you take feels like your heart is being dragged back, out of your body, stuck on the pikes of the Citadel fence, and you don't even know why you're such a wreck. Briefly you consider looking back, to see if he's still there. You know you won't like the answer either way though, so you keep marching towards the city.

 

 


	8. All This Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for sexual harassment. Nothing graphic but still potentially unnerving.  
> I've marked the paragraph with **s so you can avoid it.

     In the time since your departure from the Citadel, Nyx slid towards the back of your mind. Never quite leaving it, but tucking him away in a corner to preserve the memories. You are slipping through the cracks of the busy bar and grill you work at, zipping from table to table and taking down orders. You don't notice at first, that a group of Glaives still in fatigues sneak in and seat themselves in the corner. Until you hear a couple of your coworkers giggling to each other behind the bar, and you turn to see what they're looking at. You nearly drop your order form as you're met with a pair of intense blue eyes looking at you from across the restaurant. You feel like your heart is going to spill out of your chest, but your boss is looking daggers at you so you make your way to the table. You are working on autopilot as you place a small whiteboard in front of them, prepared ahead of time with greetings and all the questions you were supposed to ask. The whole time as you are focused on dividing your attention between the group, Nyx makes it exponentially more difficult by keeping his eyes on you the whole time with a lazy smirk that tells you he's greatly enjoying how surprised you are. When it's his turn to order you can't keep yourself from smiling, but your boss would probably frown on you hugging the patrons.  
“Good to see you too, sweetheart,” he says just loud enough for the both of you to hear, then he puts in an order. It takes all your willpower not to let yourself bubble over as you nod and collect menus. Maybe you could get a coworker to cover part of your shift later so you can catch him when he leaves.  
     Through the next hour you carefully balance tending to all the customers and taking glances at the corner table. As you head to the back room, you accidentally bump into a man coming out of the bathroom. You, having developed rapid writing reflexes, clear your white board and write an apology on it, smiling kindly and starting to move around him. Then you feel him move his body in the way, trapping you there. Your heart instantly jams into your throat, and you start to back up to ask your boss to do something about it. His massive hand reaches up and grabs your arm, pulling you against him to scrutinize you and bark out a drunken laugh. He smells overwhelmingly of the alleyway behind the bar, and when he slurs at you you can smell too much alcohol in him. Your stomach plummets as you look around, you can't see the bar or the majority of the restaurant from where you are. You're one hand down, and can't yell.  
***** “You the server here?” he growls so low you can barely understand him over the noise of the place. You nod and try to look as in control as you possibly can, maybe he was just stupid drunk instead of dangerous drunk. He shoves you against the wall and looks to the table next to you, his party probably. A bunch of old goons that all had the same wear and tear on them.  
“Then why aren't you back here servicing me?” he hacks out a laugh which turns into actual hacking as his friends hoot like he just told a memorable joke. You look to your left and see the corner table, but of course it's the one time all night none of them are looking your way. You indulge the first impulse that enters your brain, you knock loudly on the wood paneling behind your body. You don't get to see if it worked, the man's gigantic hand slams into the wall next to your head, making you jump and blocking your view. He lets go of your arm so he can creep a calloused hand under your shirt. You swipe at his arm, pushing it away long enough to duck, attempting to get under his arm blocking your way. He lets out a loud laugh and grabs your head, pushing you further down to the floor as you fight it with all your strength.  
“Was gonna save it for later, doll, but since yer askin' so nicely...” he keens as his other hand goes to work the button on his pants. The grip on your head loosens just enough for you to rip free, dropping to the ground out of reach and scrambling away from him. *****  
You run into the legs before you see them, or the body they're attached to, and it brings a sigh of relief out of you. You feel like crying as you look up and see Nyx reaching down a hand to help you up. Your legs are shaky but they support you as you sneak past him.  
“You need something from this server?” he asks calmly, but you hear the fire behind it. The creep doesn't. He straightens up and glares at Nyx.  
“None'v yer damn business,” he grunts.  
“That so? Well it is now,” Nyx responds as he flashes his Glaive patch. He nudges you gently in the back, leading you away from the party. You want to crawl into a hole as you notice half the restaurant is watching. Amongst the old drunk's rambling you hear “Didn' hear any complaints comin' outta that pretty mouth.”  
It makes you cringe but its not much different from every other quip about your muteness. What takes you a second to process, is that one second Nyx is next to you with a hand at your back and the next he's gone. You turn just in time to see his fist connect with the jaw of the old man, sending him reeling back into a drink display. The spray of glass and liquid makes you scream silently into your hand as you jump away on instinct. Your boss turns and roars, pointing directly at Nyx.  
“No fighting in my bar! Get the hell out!”  
One of the other Glaives stands.  
“Damn it Nyx ! Are you fucking drunk already?!”  
Nyx just grins with a manic glint in his eyes.  
“On the contrary, never felt better!”  
“Out!”  
Nyx strides over to you one more time, grabbing your hand to press a large tip in it and leans in.  
“Sorry about the mess,” he speaks lowly, then leaves a kiss on your cheek before saluting the bartender and turning to leave. But the old drunk has to have the last word. You hear him muttering to his friends.  
“Always said the king lost his fuckin' head when he let the Galahd scum into the--” he doesn't get to finish his sentence. With your adrenaline still pumping and the frustration of not seeing Nyx bothering to turn and defend himself, something in you snaps. Before you register what you're doing, your fist finds its way to the creep's face just under his eye. It doesn't make him stumble but he's definitely surprised. You would have done more if an arm hadn't wrapped around your middle, tugging you out of the fray.  
“Woah, woah, woah.... Hey...” the soothing voice starts to ground you and you stop struggling.  
“All of you! Out! Now!”  
Your boss gestures to both parties and points at you. You're still shaking, and when the man moves your body tenses instinctively. You hear Nyx's voice again, closer to you this time.  
“Hey... Shh... Let it go, sweetheart. It's okay... C'mon...”  
     You let him tug you out of the bar with your good hand, the fog in your head clearing once you get some air. Once your senses come back to you one-by-one you see Nyx standing there, giving you room to breathe.  
“Better?” he asks. You nod faintly.  
“Hey Ulric, thanks for getting us kicked out!” one of the Glaives complains. Nyx gives a bow.  
“Happy to be of service,” he calls back, waving.  
He turns back to you, and is faced with your whiteboard.  
_Sorry I ruined your bar hopping_  
“Like hell you did. Don't worry about it, I'll catch up to them later,” he waves it off.  
“After I walk you home maybe...”  
You freeze and shift on your feet, looking back guiltily at the bar. He narrows his eyes at you and crosses his arms.  
“What?”  
You scribble quickly then hand him your whiteboard to read in the dying light.  
_My boss was also my landlord_  
He sighs but there's a smile tugging at his mouth.  
“Stupid, you're more reckless than me,” he says, tapping the top of your head with the whiteboard. You shrug and wince as the motion finally makes you aware of the stinging pain in the hand you used to punch.  
“Alright, since I'm at least partially responsible for losing your job and house, stay at mine tonight,” he says, waving you towards the street. You catch up to him, raising your eyebrows at him. He grins over at you, checking for traffic as you cross a street.  
“What, you got somewhere else to be tonight?”  
Well, he's got a point.  
As you both walk down the sidewalk you scribble on your board.  
_How did you find me?_  
He reads quickly and smiles.  
“Regular bar is closed. Asked around, some guy told me about this place. Said the server was pretty cute, figured it had to be you,” he teases without looking at you, but he's smiling. You give him a playful punch on the arm with your good hand, but a part of you is glad he's still himself after all this time.  
“Actually, the asshole said the 'mute server creeped him out' and I was pretty sure it was a dead end.”  
      He pauses as he's unlocking the door to shoot a look you can't quite read over his shoulder at you.  
“Look, I wasn't really expecting to bring anyone home tonight, so it looks a little like a bachelor pad...”  
You grin at him then take out your whiteboard.  
_So does mine_  
You register something akin to relief on his face as he lets you in. It isn't so bad, certainly not worse than you'd expect from a busy guy like him. He takes off his jacket and tosses it on a chair, you do the same with your server's apron. You probably should have given it back, but it feels like petty revenge so you decide you'll keep it.  
He gestures down the hall.  
“Bathroom's down there, in case you wanted to grab a shower,” he offers and you nod desperately. He ducks into his room and comes out a second later with comfortable clothes, tossing them to you.  
“Probably kinda big, but better than sleeping in your work uniform.”  
Showering feels like a strangely intimate thing to do in the bathroom of a friend you haven't seen in ages, but the allure of hot water is too powerful.  
      When you come out and are faced with him in nothing but comfortable pants, you're rooted to the spot struck with the sudden realization that in all the time you've known him you have never seen him in civilian clothes. Much less with no shirt on. Your brain seems to temporarily struggle to make sense of this out of context connection. Nyx, either purposefully or not, misinterprets your cessation of movement and tosses you a charming smile.  
“Like what you see?” he teases. You roll your eyes and he laughs, waving you into the kitchen.  
“Come on, let's fix up your hand.”  
Even though he's looking over your hand as gingerly as he can, you still wince.  
“Should've learned how to punch people before, you know, going and punching someone,” he scolds. You grab a pen off the counter and look around before finally settling on writing on your arm, making him frown.  
_Was kinda spontaneous_  
“Yeah, no shit,” he says, pausing to find your whiteboard to put in front of you.  
“What the hell was that?”  
You look at him like he should already know, because its obvious to you. He just keeps tossing curious glances up at you between disinfecting and wrapping your hand.  
_He was insulting you..._  
His look of confusion only deepens.  
“Yeah? So is half the city. He was just trying to bait me. You've seen it before, but you've never punched someone.”  
I know  
He studies you for a few more seconds, then lets out a breath.  
“Well feels like nothing's broken at least. Let it heal and you should be fine.”  
He pulls extra blankets from a cupboard in the hallway and tosses them down on the couch. When you go to set them up he stops you.  
“This is for me, you're taking the bed tonight.”  
You frown at him and start to write down a reply but he smiles and snatches the pen from your hand. He keeps it out of reach as you try to grab it back.  
“What, you think I'm gonna let you argue? Quit being humble for a change and let me do something nice.”  
You smile a little and nod, grabbing the pen back.  
      You wander into the room while he finishes setting up the couch. You aren't sure where to keep your eyes, it feels strange to look at someplace as private as a bedroom. You settle for sitting on the bed and staring at the blanket until the pattern makes you dizzy. You feel a sudden weight on you, you're so tired... And the shock of the night seems to finally be setting in. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head on your arms, blocking out the world. You aren't crying yet, not until you feel the bed dip next to you and a pair of arms tug you into a warm body. It rips open a seam and you can't stop crying. Nyx reclines with you still held against him and eventually you wear yourself out completely, falling asleep.


	9. A Second Time

      Your night terrors wake you up earlier than you want. Your hands are grasping your neck protectively. You blink as you adjust to the dark of the room. You're trying to remember where you are; the only thing more unsettling than waking up in a strange place is waking up there alone. Then bits and pieces seep through your consciousness and you begin to remember what happened last night. You slide the covers off and step onto the floor, shivering at the cold. You try to move as quietly as you can, the rest of the house is still dark except for a small nightlight in the kitchen. The light casts dimly over Nyx asleep on the couch. It was odd seeing him so still. He looks nice though, you never really had the chance to see how his tattoos run faintly across his body, or all the different scars he's collected. You're so focused on memorizing the small details of his form you don't notice him waking up and smiling tiredly at you until he speaks.

“Caught you looking,” he murmurs half into his pillow. You jump at the sudden sound and shuffle away as casually as you can. He isn't wrong. You settle for slipping into the kitchen to hide your face. You need some coffee; you make enough for 2.

“Hey, hate to do this but I gotta work today,” he says, leaning on the kitchen doorway. You raise your eyebrows at him and pull over your whiteboard.

_You went out drinking on a work night?_

“ _Especially_ on a work night. You'd be surprised how well I hold my liquor,” he responds with a grin. You shake your head and keep making coffee.

      You hear him rustling around then start the shower. Briefly, you wonder what he must look like with no clothes on at all, and as quickly as the unexpected thought had come, it vanishes. It leaves you blushing and looking over at the bathroom door, worried that somehow he'd be able to see your thoughts. He'd be absolutely insufferable if he knew.

You stand together in the kitchen nursing your coffees, watching as the morning gets lighter.

“Got any idea where you're going today?” he asks. You shake your head and set down your coffee to write.

_But don't worry, I'll figure it out before you get home._

“Gods, I'm not _kicking you out_. Actually if I'm honest I think you should let your hand heal for a day, then we'll figure it out when I get back.”

Well it sounds better than wandering the streets of the city, so you relent.

“There's a spare key on the rack in case you wanna go anywhere. But don't do anything stupid like trying to get that job back,” he warns. You smile and cross your heart, it seems to satisfy him. You have no idea what you're going to do all day.

      It's something of an accident. You didn't mean to, but you were bored and wanted to get out of your own head for a while. One minute you're sitting down reading a stray newspaper, the next you're straightening out the dining table. It starts with little things; putting the mail in one spot, hanging up coats that were strung over the chairs, taking the odd dish to the sink. Then, you think it looks weird having a clean dining table and a dirty kitchen. So you wash the dishes in the sink, put things away, wipe down the counters. Maybe it's your body not knowing how to cope with not being at work right now. As you're putting the creamer away, you notice the fridge is nearly empty. What, does he go out to eat every night? You resolve to make a list of things to buy, because it's going to drive you crazy knowing he eats like this. You start on the living room because you're already up so you might as well finish off the common areas. You count ten beer bottles and only hope it has collected over time. Herding remotes to the entertainment cabinet, you're pleased to see a couple game consoles. You wonder how often he really has time to play them, as they seem to be covered in excessive dust. When you pick up the blanket on the couch another strange train of thought flashes through your head. The blanket, and him, sleeping on the couch, and you, sleeping next to him, under the blanket, in his arms. The image keeps building on itself until all at once it disappears. You don't know what these thoughts are borne from but they are intruding at strange times, and it makes you tiredly rub your eyes and sigh. You fold up the blanket, the past 12 hours have felt like a really long dream and you can't tell how you feel about it.

      You almost leave the bedroom alone, because that feels intrusive. But he was already letting you sleep there, and it would look weird to clean the whole house except the bedroom. You compromise by deciding you wouldn't go so far as to do the laundry. Not for your sake as much as his. You make the bed and organize the nightstand, trying not to look at anything too closely. When you open the drawer to put away a watch, something catches your eye. A small square notepad, worn around the edges with the last words you ever wrote on it still imprinted on the surface. You're not sure why, but the sight of it hidden away so close to him makes your heart beat harder until you feel the need to close the drawer.

      When Nyx gets back you are sitting on the couch, sipping on a beer and curiously channel flipping. It takes him a moment to notice.

“Hey, you found....” he doesn't get very far before blinking around the room trying to comprehend the change. He looks at you incredulously.

“Did... You clean my house....?” he asks in confusion. You shrug at him. Then in the kitchen, the pot of stew simmering on the stove catches his attention.   
“Cleaned my house and... Made dinner...” he sounds both exasperated and secretly pleased. He goes and looks in the pot.

“Wait a minute, where'd you get all the stuff to make this..?” he stares at you as he tries to figure it out, but you simply take a sip of your drink.

“You didn't....” he goes over and opens the fridge, visibly alarmed at the sight of it filled.

“ _And_ you bought food....” he sighs. He ducks his head out.

“Anything else I should know?”

You tap on the bottle you're drinking and he looks at it as though he's just noticed it.

He goes back in and roots around for one, then sighs.

“You'd better be sticking around to help eat all this,” he says and sits next to you.

_Like dinner? Or everything?_

“Both? You can't seriously expect me to eat all that,” he exclaims.

_Uh yeah.... Normal people eat that much every week. You can cook right?_

“Of course I can, that doesn't mean I like to.”

_Do you need me to come over every night and cook for you?_ You tease.

And for a second he just sits there thinking, like he's actually considering it. You raise your eyebrows at him. He's not actually considering it, is he?

He sees your expression and waves it off.

“No not that... But you know people would pay you to clean for them....” he suggests.

_You think?_

“Sure, why not? Unless that's demeaning for you.”

You laugh and take another sip.

_I'd rather clean your house than work at a skeevy bar for an asshole_

_Cleaning doesn't really pay bills though_

“Around here it does. They're not exactly hooking up the refugees with palaces.”

_Well that solves one problem_

_But I'll have to save up for a place_

“We'll figure it out, one step at a time.”

      You don't really plan to stay another night, it's just sort of a silent consensus you both come to by the time night rolls in. Besides, he won't let you leave unless you've already got a place to stay. One more night couldn't hurt.

_Fine but I'm taking the couch tonight_

He goes to the closet to retrieve the extra blankets, then looks over his shoulder at you.

“Says who?”

_Says me!_

_I'm not taking away your bed again Nyx_

You go over and lay on the couch stubbornly, crossing your arms at him.

“ _That's_ your plan?” he asks, walking over to the couch and staring down at you. You just beam at him.

“When I'm twice as big as you?”

He punctuates it by scooping you up and walking towards the bedroom. You sigh as he puts you down on the bed. You grab onto his arm as he starts to leave, then pat the other side of the bed.

“You're really not gonna let this go?” he asks. You shake your head and he gives up.

The gratification of your victory is that you get to fall asleep feeling his warm back against yours.

 


	10. Complicated

      Evidently, you both move a lot in your sleep. When you wake up you're facing him and his arm, by some sstrange happenstance, is under you. He's on his back, one arm over his face, and you're definitely more snuggled up to him than you remember being last night. He groans tiredly as he stirs and rubs his eyes, taking a breath before looking over at you. The sight of him waking up next to you sends a skitter through your pulse, and you breifly think that you'd like very much to wake up next to him every day. You blink the thought away and scoot back a little without actually getting up.

“Morning,” he says a little gruffly, his voice still full of sleep. You smile and respond by tucking one of his braids that had fallen loose back behind his ear.

      You're staring up at the ceiling and you must be frowning because you feel Nyx prod your shoulder and have to unfurrow your eyebrows.

“What's up?” he asks tiredly. You sigh because you don't want to move, but you roll over and stretch to grab your whiteboard off the nightstand. You're still not quite awake so your writing is shaky, not to mention you're still laying down.

_Just figuring out where to go today_

_Are there hotels nearby?_

He blinks and frowns at you in disbelief.

“Seriously? I told you to stick around, didn't I?” he asks but of course it's rhetorical. You side eye him.

_Really?_

“I mean at least until you find something better.”

_Like anything could be better than hanging around here_

He laughs. He thinks you're joking. You're not sure if you're joking or not.

      As Nyx dresses, you wander out into the living room. Something catches your eye that you hadn't noticed before, somehow. Maybe it was the way the sunlight is hitting it now. A corkboard tacked up in the corner of the room. You tread over and lean your arms on the desk in front of it. You frown at the collection, tons and tons of news clippings (some over 2 decades old, some more recent) of imperial invasion and destruction of his homeland. It sinks your heart, and you feel a pang of uneasiness remembering your own home. Your eyes catch onto a photo of a woman, probably not much older than yourself, and a young girl. They're both practically flawless, and so so happy.

“My sister,” Nyx's voice makes you jump. He walks over and leans on the desk with you.

“And my mother,” he finishes. You don't really need to ask what happened.

_They're beautiful_

_Now I know where you get your good looks_

You smile at him and you're relieved to see him laugh.

“You think? Everyone said I look like my dad,” he muses. Now that you think about it, there's no picture of his dad, but he doesn't seem to speak of him unfondly.

“I was pretty young when he died on a big hunt, according to my mother anyways.”

You adjust your position.

_You think otherwise?_

He shrugs.

“Who knows. He was kind of a hot-head, rushed into things. Could have just as easily been a daemon or the empire.”

You smirk over at him.

_Sounds familiar_

_Guess being a Hero is in your blood_

He gives you a crooked smile.

“Guess so.”

He squeezes your shoulder, rubbing his thumb over it affectionately before heading off to finish preparing for work.

      Right when he gets home, he strides over to the table where you're reading and plants a piece of paper in front of you.

“Crowe says she could use a cleaning,” he announces. You look at the note in surprise, there is a phone number written on it. You grin as you take the paper.

_Sorry I clean houses not people_

“That's a shame, smart ass,” he says as he walks by and cuffs you lightly on the side of the head on his way to dress down. You tap out the number in the phone:

 

**< (Is this Crowe? I heard you're in need of a clean house.)**

 

**(Oh you're the one Nyx mentioned. Shit, yeah. ASAP.) >**

 

      The journey to Crowe's house is only a short train ride, but it takes longer than you'd expect. Which is particularly awful in the early morning when you're still tired. You'd since gotten used to the chaos of the city streets and underground transport. At least the noise level was about half it's usual cadence at this hour. Actually, the worst part is really that she lives in an apartment block several stories up. You knock on the door and while you're waiting for her to answer, you try to get your breathing under control.

      When Crowe answers you both take a second to look each other over. She's in a white tank top and black pants, holding up her hair. She says something, but you can't tell what it is because the hair tie is between her teeth. However she nods you in, so you figure it probably wasn't “Go away”. You follow her in and look around you while you wait for her mouth to become unoccupied. As she puts her hair up she looks over you again.

“So you're Nyx's new live-in?” she asks. This surprises you, you hadn't been aware he'd told anyone. Though thinking about it, he probably slipped it in while telling her about the service. She walks you through the house, apartment, which is smaller than Nyx's but significantly more cluttered. She seems unabashed and it's really kind of a relief to avoid the awkardness. While she walks she slowly applies her Glaive uniform piece by piece.

      As she sits in the dining room putting on her boots you sit nearby with a cup of coffee. She casts you a look between tying the laces and securing the absurd buckles.

“So are you two like, a thing?” she asks. It takes you a second to realize what she means. You shake your head uncertainly, you didn't think so... She raises an eyebrow at you.

“Does he know that?” she presses further. The question confuses you. Why wouldn't he? You blink and nod slowly.

_Why?_

She studies you a second longer before shrugging and going back to her boots.

“He talks about you, that's all.”

Now THAT is a surprise. You narrow your eyes at the floor, thinking, until her voice drags you back. She's done with her boots and now she's looking solemnly at you.

“You know... Nyx has been through a lot, he kinda gets into stuff without thinking about himself,” she says sternly, but not unkindly. You get it.

_I know how you feel_

_I care about him but_

_He's all yours_

For some reason, writing it threatens to make bile rise up in your throat. She makes a face.

“Gods, no, are you kidding? You think I could come home to that every night? We'd kill each other in a week,” she protests, standing and grabbing her bag.

“Besides, I've already got a girlfriend.”

 

 


	11. The Three Times You Finally Realize You May Have A Problem

      As you come back from another cleaning, it strikes you just how much this place is beginning to feel like home. Especially considering a few weeks ago you felt strange just using the shower. It was comfortable and warm, it felt nice to come home to at the end of the day. It had been so long since you felt that. What's more is the realization this feeling doesn't come from the décor, or the warm lighting, or the size of the place. Primarily it comes from Nyx.

      You concede to do laundry, since you're the one here most of the time. It's less weird when both your clothes are in the mix anyways. You set the basket of clothes on the table so you can get some detergent. As you're shoving some escapees back into the basket, something falls out of some pants pocket. It's a small yellow note folded in half. You pick it up curiously and open it, wondering if you'd forgotten something. All it said was “Clara” with a phone number printed underneath. This definitely was not yours. The sight unexpectedly makes your insides roil in protest. A powerful sadness suddenly overwhelms you, something akin to dread. You know the feeling, you just don't know why.

You don't notice Nyx coming into the room until he's approached you.

“Need anything from town?” he asks, tugging on a glove. You shake your head numbly, still lost in your own head. He notices.

“What's wrong?” he prods, and you subconsciously tense. The words bring you back into the real world and you casually shove the note away, forcing a smile you hope is convincing. You don't know why it's so hard.

_Sorry just spacing out_

_Im fine_

_But I might start charging you if I have to keep pulling your dates numbers out of every pair of pants_

You hope you look like you're teasing him, like everything is perfectly normal. Because it is. Of course it is. He looks at you funny then notices the note you've put on the table and opens it. A cat-like grin spreads over his face slowly.

“Uh, Clara isn't a date. Actually, this number's for you. New client,” he says, offering it back. You blink and can't help letting a smile slip past as you take it. The tension in your shoulders leaves. He side eyes you slyly.

“Werre you _jealous_?” he asks with more than a little amusement and too much ego. You feel your face heat up knowing you were so obvious and busy yourself after scribbling a response.

_As if_

_Jealous of what?_

Still, you can't keep the smile of relief off your face. You're glad he doesn't think you're mad at him.

“You tell me,” he says, deliberately scooting closer. You roll your eyes and laugh. You don't know why, so you have nothing to tell him.

_You're gonna be late_

“Mm, hate it when you're right,” he says and quickly kisses the side of your head, forcing you to remain as neutral as you can, before leaving the house.

      Nyx walks into the room and you only glance up briefly from your drawing to acknowledge him.

“Hey, I need you to call my phone,” he says. He sounds defeated, probably after a long game of hide and seek. You don't look up as you point to the desk where your phone is laying. He goes into you phone, and after a few minutes you finally look up at him when you realize he hasn't dialed in his number.

“A dating app, huh?” he asks with surprise. You glance away self-consciously. It had been your attempt to stuff some feelings you didn't understand into a bottle and look around for someone to distract you.

“Gotten any bites?” he prods curiously. You shrug.

_A few I guess but no dates_

“Why not? Gotta be some good looking guys out there.”

_I guess I have high standards_

“Bad news for me.”

Before you can ask what he means he dials his number and chases the sound out of the room. Maybe for the better. You might have told him he meets all the standards.

      It's practically already evening when Nyx suggests, with no warning, that you should both go out to eat. You turn your head to look up at him. Owing to the fact that the couch is the only living room furniture to sit on, you predictably ended up with him sitting on his phone, and your head in his lap while channel surfing. Now you sit up and look at the kitchen.

_I dont mind cooking_

He looks at you skeptically.

“You cleaned three houses today. You're _not_ in the mood to cook.”

Damn he's really got your number. So you nod.

      It's crowded in the restaurant, but most of the noise is coming from the bar area. It's casual, the food is okay, and it all suits you just fine. You're sipping on drinks when you look over to see his phone pointed at you. You make a face just in time to hear a camera click. He grins down at the picture.

“Now that is a good wallpaper,” he says. You make another face before whipping out your phone and aiming it at him. Instead of shying away, he leans into it, giving you a look that could get anyone to hop into bed with him in an instant. Bastard knows he's attractive. It catches your breath for a second before you put your phone away. You take a few more sips of your drink.

“You know, I've never seen you drunk,” he says suddenly, looking at you with interest. You take another sip.

_Dont think Ive ever been drunk_

From the looks of it he takes this as a challenge.

“In the mood for a game?” he asks. As if on cue, the waitress brings over more drinks, and she's sizing up Nyx with the hungriest look you've ever seen. You can't blame her, especially when he gives that pretty smile right back. Yeah, you're gonna need more drinks.

_Do your worst Ulric_

      His worst is, evidently, more than you can handle. You're still walking at least, but the world is spinning a little. He has an arm around you, for your own safety more than anything.

“Had no idea you were such a lightweight,” he says, with a hint of concern. You shrug and smile up at him.

“You gonna make it up the stairs, alright?” he asks. You heave a sigh.

_Im not THAT drunk_

“I dunno. You were laughing pretty hard at a man because he had a... What was it... 'Upside down mustache'.”

The reminder sends you into another fit of giggles before you can stop yourself.

“My point exactly.”

The two of you pause on the landing for him to unlock the door. You tug on his sleeve and he turns to you.

_Thanks_

“You might not be thanking me tomorrow morning,” he murmurs.

_I just mean for like_

_Everything_

The thought of the waitress again makes you feel bold, and careless, and something else you're too wasted to try and unpack. So you do the only logical thing your mind comes up with. You lean up to try and kiss him. With the reflexes of a soldier he deflects you kindly with his hand.

“Alright, you're a giggley drunk and a flirty drunk. Didn't see that coming,” he says and opens the door.

You pout.

_Its not cause Im drunk_

He laughs, because you took ages to write it and it still looks like crap.

“Listen, if you can even remember any of this tomorrow, you're free to kiss me all you want when you're sober. For now, go sleep this off,” he commands, not unkindly. You're suddenly too tired to think on your own, and it's nice to have someone telling you what to do. Predictably, you don't remember a thing in the morning.

 

 


	12. Childhood Fears

“Flan.”  
 _Flan?_

He nods definitively.

“Flan.”

You screw up your face and take a bite of dinner. A cold pasta dish to conquer the heat. Coupled with neither of you giving up the right to sit in your underwear in your own home, it's actually working quite well.

_But they're so..._

_Squishy_

“Exactly. They're disgusting,” he emphasizes.

_Thinking they're gross isn't the same as being afraid of them_

He nods and takes another bite while he thinks.

“When I was a kid, I was out too late playing... Well... Alright, I was trying to impress a girl,” he admits, and it makes you laugh.

“Anyways, we went upstream and it started getting dark, so I tried to pretend I was this fearless hunter like the rest of my family. One of those things shows up and blocks our only way home. Long story short, I'm halfway submerged in slime before someone even finds us.”

You grimace in sympathy.

_Was she impressed?_

“Take a guess.”

_Poor baby Nyx_

“Never played outside after dark again. What about you?”

You tap the marker on the whiteboard while you think.

_Coeurls_

“Alright... So what's the story behind that?”

_Back home my parents had a farm._

_We had a problem with a Coeurl coming around and eating some of our animals_

_Then one night during a thunderstorm it set our barn on fire_

Nyx lets out a low whistle and shakes his head.

“Yeah, okay, you win that one.”

      You're washing dishes when you hear the front door open and close. Nyx had gone out to town with his friends. You hear him walk into the room (his gait seems irregular), before you feel him put his arms around your middle and pull you towards him.

“Y'know you look kinda cute in my clothes,” he says. You turn off the water, drying your hands and tossing him a wry look over your shoulder.

_Are you hitting on me?_

He gives you a cheeky smile.

“Mean I wouldn' say no...”

_Are you drunk?_

He shrugs.

“Li'l bit?”

You smile and erase your whiteboard.

_Then hands off Ulric_

He gives a little sigh but lets go, taking a step back.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. You turn to face him.

_I thought you said you could hold your liquor_

He grins again.

“Can. Wouldn' believe how much it takes t'get me hammered.”

You give him a look of amusement laced with concern.

_Six are you drowning your sorrows or something?_

He doesn't laugh like you expect, but gives you a look you can't quite discern. It's gone as quick as it arrives.

_There's dinner on the stove by the way_

He grimaces at the thought of food.

“M'gonna go to bed,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek and pausing, remembering your demand. He gives you a nod and turns to go. You smile and halt him, going in and kissing his cheek instead. A few seconds later as you're about to turn the water back on you hear his voice.

“Hey.”

You turn back to look at him.

“That mean you wanna get 'hands on' when'm sober?” he asks with a charming smile. You can't keep yourself from blushing but hope to detract from it with an eyeroll.

_ GOODNIGHT _

You thrust the board forward for him to read and punctuate it with a stare. He clicks his tongue and winks before heading into the bedroom.

      Unsurprisingly, you're up before him the next morning. He's lucky it's his day off. When he finally emerges he's in just dark underwear and a white under shirt, brushing back his hair with a hand. It also comes as no surprise that he's rubbing his temple lightly. You grin and take up your whiteboard.

_Having regrets?_

He blinks as he struggles to focus his eyes for a second then smiles, shaking his head.

“Not even.”

He pours himself his own coffee and whistles his way out of the kitchen.

 


	13. Words Don't Fix Things Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for smut.   
> Will mark where it begins with **s  
> Will end in next chapter.   
> It is avoidable!

      The minute you open the door you feel something is different. The lights are off, and the bedroom door is closed. It's a little unnerving, but you take off your jacket and shoes then move to the door quietly. You rap on it and wait for a response. You're surprised to hear a knocking sound from inside after a few seconds. That's weird, but kind of endearing too. You push the door open cautiously and see Nyx laying on the bed, still in the underclothes of his uniform. His eyes flicker over to you briefly.

“Hey,” he greets you without enthusiasm. Without much feeling at all really. You nod in response and move over to sit on the bed, tilting your head at him. He doesn't speak for a while, just lays on his back with his hands folded behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. You don't push him, just lean against the headboard until he's ready. You've changed into your sweatpants and picked up your book to doodle in by the time he speaks up, you'd started to think he had fallen asleep.

“Crowe's... Dead...” he says finally, spitting out the word like it made him feel ill. Actually, there's a good chance it does. You drop your pencil at the news, trying to comprehend what he's just said. Your heart sinks a little and you look over at him. His eyes are scanning the ceiling, like he's looking for answers. You can see tons of things running through his head, seeping out in his gaze. Anger, mostly.

You hesitantly reach over and run your fingers through his hair. He doesn't move but you can see his body relax incrementally.

“We didn't even--” he has to stop himself as anger warps his voice. He sighs and tiredly presses his thumb and middle finger to his eyes, blocking out the world. You try to figure out the best course of action as he goes back to glaring at the ceiling with his jaw working. There's nothing you can tell him that matters, you know that from personal experience. Words don't fix things like this.

      You take his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and bring his hand up to your mouth to kiss it. You expect him to recoil but instead he sighs and lets his eyes flutter closed. You trail kisses over each finger, catching sight of the thin lines of tattoos on some of them. You detach your hand and sneak a kiss onto his palm before he moves his hand to cup your cheek, then travels to the back of your neck (you shiver in response), and finally landing on the back of your shoulders, tugging you down next to him. Your heart spurs you on and you continue placing kisses on him, starting at his cheek. They move up his temple, over his forehead, and down the bridge of his nose, making the corners of his mouth turn up very briefly. Your body carries you before your brain catches up, and you end your crusade kissing his mouth.

      Only then does he open his eyes just enough to meet yours. There's no fireworks, no lightning strike, no ton of bricks. The realization settles over you like a warm blanket, as though it had always been there (and maybe it had). The reason you always felt safest when he was around, the reason you felt like you were being torn apart having to leave the Citadel, the reason you punched that creep at the bar, the reason you find you can't stop staring at him sometimes. You're beginning to love this man terribly.

       *****   He sits up with you and tests the waters, going in for another kiss. You find you're more than willing to oblige, you want him to feel like he has something to hold onto. By the way he wraps his arms around you and tugs you onto his lap, he doesn't want to let go. His kisses are quick but they are many, a hint of desperation in them. They are also teasing, no matter how much you chase him down he won't let you feel his lips longer than a second. You have no problem letting him be a little selfish, but you decide to pay him back anyways, continuing your trail of kisses over his chin and down along his jaw. You pull back and tug on his shirt. He's quick to comply, which makes you smile more. You go back in and kiss down his neck along the thin tattoo, all the while letting your hands glide lightly over his torso. You can feel the pulse under his skin speeding up. His own hands are exploring your lower back tentatively under your shirt and every so often you coax a soft noise out of him. You reach back and grab his hands, and he looks worried for a second. You smile reassuringly at him and place his hands at the buttons of your shirt. He is mercifully quick to catch on, and you help him by shrugging the shirt off.

       His fingers glide along the curve of your spine making you shiver and inhale sharply. You see something lively starting to spark behind his eyes, and any hesitation you had left melts. He places his hands on your hips and urges you to turn around. A part of you can't believe you're exposing your vulnerable back to him when he's like this, another part of you thinks it's thrilling. Again he places two fingers on your spine just above the hem of your pants and strokes all the way up to the base of your skull. At first you think it's the anticipation that sends sparks through you, making you gasp louder than you expect and instinctively clap a hand over your mouth. You hear him laugh quietly to himself and pry your hand from your mouth, then he snaps in front of you and you see the unnatural blue tint of magic forming an electric jolt between them. You shiver again and try to think of how to communicate that you understand, that you liked it, that you want more... You nod dumbly instead. He sweeps aside your hair and starts pressing kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders. You want to protest, to tell him it was supposed to be _his_ alleviation, but the kisses fog up your mind with excitement. Especially as he intercepts the kisses with bites frequently, and reaches a place just behind your ear that makes you arch your back and writhe a little on his lap. You can hear him groan softly into your neck and feel him start to harden under you. The feeling sends tendrils of pleasure into your abdomen.

      You don't notice his hands grazing your middle until his fingers sneak (unintentionally, you suspect) under the waist of your pants. When he catches on he doesn't move them forward, but doesn't withdraw them either. He just keeps peppering your back with kisses. You don't hesitate reaching down to guide his hand further in, unbuttoning your pants for emphasis. He doesn't need any more encouragement to travel down and press his hand to you outside your underwear. There's no doubt he can feel your arousal as his hand explores and rubs you slowly, achingly so. He murmurs against the side of your neck, his voice low and a little heady.

“All this for me? I'm flattered,” he purrs and presses down a little harder. You scrunch up your face in response but can't hold your composure and arch up against his hand. You see him actually properly smile for the first time all night and it thrills you suddenly to know he's smiling at you, because of you. You squirm out of your pants just to be free of them and turn once again in his arms to work on his. It's difficult when he keeps distracting you with more kisses, this time tempting you to open it with encouraging nips and swipes of his tongue. You're more than happy to allow him in, and his restless hands finally help yours in wrestling his pants and sliding them off underneath you.

      You're not sure when your arms wound their way around his neck, and your bare torsos pressed together, but you're close when he breaks the kiss to get both of you some air. You don't make it easy, rolling your hips over his making you both groan, though yours is silent. You pause briefly when you feel something... Out of place. You have a good idea what it might be. Your hand travels down his torso and rests on his length, feeling around and making extra sure to give a few light squeezes. Nyx looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“Find something you like?” he asks with barely concealed smugness, although the effect is a little deteriorated from the moans he keeps making under your touch. You give his shoulder a light shove and finally find what you're looking for, a piercing. That explains it. The discovery makes you chew your lip in anticipation and idly try and close your legs self-consciously when it serves to turn you on even more, which of course doesn't work with you straddling him. He must mistake your reaction for trepidation because he tilts your face back towards him.

“You wanna quit?” he asks, a little concerned. You look at him like he's just asked you to kiss a mindflayer and shake your head adamantly. He looks like he's fighting off a smirk. You raise your eyebrows at him and prod his chest. He gains a mischievous glint behind his eyes.

“Are you kidding? Do you know how long I've been wanting to get you in bed?” he asks completely shamelessly. You blush in spite of yourself and he looks fairly pleased with himself, you'll have to get him back. You grab a soft marker off the side table and trace your fingers lightly down his arm before taking his hand captive. You write with soft, brushlike strokes, making him fidget and bite back noises of appreciation.

_Better make sure I enjoy it then_

His mischievous look becomes downright devilish as he brings his hand down between your legs again and you feel a wave of static pulse from his fingers placed just so, making you buck your hips and sending a needle of pleasure straight to your core.

“I don't think that'll be a problem, do you?” he teases. You want to roll your eyes but the words make you shiver instead. You definitely need to level the playing field and his ego, he'll be unbearable if he makes you come first.

 


	14. Or?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for smut  
> Chapter starts out with it, will mark where it ends with **s  
> It is avoidable and there is content after it!

      You push him to recline and give his throat a nip. You can feel the vibrations of his moan as you move your kisses down his torso. You try to balance the line between seeming too eager, and torturing yourself as well as him. You run your tongue on the taut skin just above the hem of his underwear, enjoying the way he's fighting to keep from arching into your face. You finally free his straining cock and toss his underwear to the floor. You look up and see him sitting up on his elbows watching you intently. You wrap your hand around him and give an experimental stroke, loving the noise it pulls from him. You run the flat of your tongue up the underside of the shaft and press firm kisses to the tip. You love the thought of seeing him unravel. You pay direct attention to the piercing, the metal warming under your tongue. You run your nails over his thighs as you take him into your mouth, a little at a time. He's trying hard not to buck into your mouth, and you desperately want to grant it to him, but it's been a while and you don't want to make yourself choke. You slide further down his cock until he's comfortably settled in the back of your mouth. Your hand covers what you can't reach, and you don't waste anymore time moving your head. His hand almost immediately rests on the back of your head, tangling in your hair the quicker you move. Your hand gives him a squeeze and he groans, tugging at your hair. The pleasure it shoots through you makes you gasp, and he starts to let go. To show him how much you enjoyed it you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, pushing just past your gag reflex and swallow around him. His hand not only takes its place back in your hair but he tugs even harder, his fingertips digging delightfully into your scalp.

“Nng-- Fuck..!”

Now that's a reaction you could get used to hearing. It definitely makes it worth the uncomfortable stretch. You take in more every time your head goes back in, and this time your tongue does its almighty best to hit the sensitive pressure spots you'd found along his cock. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his free hand clutching and unclutching the bedsheet. Every so often when you hit a particularly nice spot, his fist alights as he unintentionally summons his flames and snaps out of it a second later. Come to think of it, you wouldn't mind feeling that fire on your skin either.

You're too distracted to hear your name called the first time, the second time it's more frantic, accompanied by a tug of your hair.

“______, w-wait..”

The desperation in his pleas worry you a little as you pull off his cock. He breathes hard for a spell, collecting himself as his hand moves to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your slick, bruised mouth.

“You're gonna... Make me come like that...” he pants. You blink at him and nod slowly. Isn't that the whole point...? He averts his gaze, smiling a little self-consciously, then tugs you forward for a kiss and keeps your foreheads together.

“I'd, uh, rather come together, if it's all the same to you,” he says, tapping under your chin. You nod and grin playfully, catching his hand and pressing his fingers to your lips. He watches you warily and twitches a little as you push them into your mouth. You give them much the same treatment you gave his length, except he moves his fingers ever so slightly in your mouth. The sensation makes you squirm. He seems to be in a trance for a good minute, just watching you and feeling your tongue play around his fingers. Then he blinks out of it and leans in close.

“Not that I couldn't let you do this all day, but this all feels a little one-sided,” he purrs near your ear and gently pulls his fingers from your mouth. You chase them briefly, nipping the tips of them, until you're suddenly flipped and pressed to the bed.

“I think it's your turn...” he breathes. You twitch and idly run your tongue over your lips. His warm breath sends goosebumps wherever his mouth ghosts over your body, just grazing you. Every so often he'll press a kiss to your skin, in seemingly random patterns. Your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Your arm. He lingers over the scar left by the bullet hole, long enough to make you look down and tug gently at his hair. He breaks his gaze and smiles up at you.

“Nothing just... Weird that one stupid mistake can turn into...” he says, gesturing to the both of you. You return his smile and he goes back to kissing you. He runs over the expanse of your skin, listening to the difference in your breathing at each kiss, sometimes going back over spots that sound nice. It seems he particularly likes kissing your sides just above the hips, making you laugh between your pleasured panting and your body automatically trying to wiggle away from the touch. You feel him smile against you every time. He's taking longer than you and you're torn between agonizing over wanting him to really touch you, and loving the gentle sensations. Finally he settles himself between your legs and presses a kiss outside your underwear. He tugs it aside enough to press his slicked up fingers to your entrance, rubbing a little. It makes you spread your legs wider and shiver. He takes this as a signal to push them in slowly, making you gasp and arch your hips. The discomfort is minimal, but he still takes the moment to continue his kisses to your underwear. They're light and not quite enough. You need more, especially with his fingers curling and thrusting into you. The warm wet of his tongue through the thin layer of your underwear mixed with the heated friction inside you is all consuming and you can't help wondering if he's sneaking in some magic. His licks and gentle sucking are distracting, but his focus is in stretching you with another finger. He gets into a rhythm of licking, sucking, and finger fucking you. You could let it go on until it overwhelms you, but instead you shakily reach over to the nightstand and knock on it.

      He lifts his head to look at you and slowly pulls out his fingers. You bite your lip at the loss and catch your breath as you wiggle out of your underwear. It takes all your self-control not to knock him over as you practically launch yourself at him, climbing back onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers weave their way through his hair, short and soft, and tug him into another crushing kiss. You can feel his exposed cock grinding against you and it's driving you absolutely up the walls with need. You reach down to touch him, to encourage him to enter you, and instead feel his own hand grab your wrist. You huff in frustration, which makes him smile that bastard grin into your kiss and pull away just enough to murmur.

“Something I can help you with? Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. You pull back and narrow your eyes at him, arching one eyebrow. At least when he realizes the indiscretion he has the decency to look a little alarmed at himself.

“Sorry, sorry... Slip of the tongue...” he apologizes, giving you a quick kiss. You soften, you know he'd never intentionally say something like that. He grips his length and aligns your hips so he's pressed against your entrance.

“I ought to make it up to you...” he continues, all charm again, and you nod eagerly.

      Finally, _finally_ , his hand guides your hips down onto him. The stretch isn't overwhelming, and your eyes close as you get yourself used to the pressure. His hand is gripping your thigh tightly, but he's letting you set the pace. This isn't the first time you've done this, and after the piercing slips inside you, you speed up the process until he bottoms out. You both let out a shaky breath against each others' lips with your foreheads pressed together. The pleasure from being filled so completely is dizzying, and addicting. It makes you want more. His fingertips dig into your hips, you use your arms around him as leverage to help you move. The discomfort only lasts until you start to build up a rhythm, then the friction starts to warm you up. As you work on steadily increasing the pace, he manipulates your hips, trying out different angles. When he hits a particularly sweet spot you tense and grab tightly to him, making him groan into your neck. You tap on the back of his neck desperately.

“Again...?” he breathes and lifts you. You nod and tap again, exhaling sharply as he thrusts back up into that spot. He adjusts your bodies, hitching up your legs before laying you down back on the bed and taking over. Feeling him continuously hit you at that delicious angle has you seeing stars, especially when you feel the warm metal of the piercing adding extra pressure inside you. His free hand runs over your torso, switching abruptly between the warmth of the flames and the pulsations of electricity as he traces patterns on your chest. Every sensation coils down in your abdomen, making you arch up to meet his thrusts. He's breathing nearly too hard to speak, but you're not quite that lucky.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

His words have an effect on you, forcing you to bite hard into his shoulder to ground yourself and keep you from finishing right there. It doesn't escape his notice. It takes tremendous willpower but you adamantly shake your head. Your stubbornness makes him laugh. Truthfully, each thrust is bringing you closer towards your release, and it's difficult to hide it. You're tempted to just let him carry you headfirst over that cliff, but you don't want to give him that satisfaction just yet. He makes his voice lower and moves right next to your ear.  
“Really? Sure looks like it...” he taunts. You have to fight to reconnect the circuits in your brain and think quickly enough. You snatch up the hand touching you and intertwine your fingers, catching him off guard. While he's distracted your other hand runs your nails down his body and lands on his backside, squeezing. It makes him thrust up into you particularly hard, making you both shudder. He growls and thrusts just as hard a few extra times, tugging you both up to a seated position.

“Astrals... You're _merciless_ tonight...” he pants, and you smile at him primly. It falters though as his own look becomes impish and he sneaks one hand between the two of you, holding you tightly with the other arm.

“But so am I.”

An overwhelming surge of magic washes over you, making you gasp sharply and bringing you up to your knees as your body instinctively tries to both worm away from it and move closer to it. He joins you and leans in to kiss and bite at your chest almost painfully, his hips rolling still. He doesn't move his hand, instead petting and stroking you while he changes the tempo of the fire ravaging your skin. But every bit of it winds you up, and you're ready to burst.

Then on an exhale, his name tumbles from your lips practiced and perfect. Just an accidental whisper, but it's the first time you've said his name.

“Nyx...”

It seems to surprise him terribly, as half a second later you hear his breath hitch and he sends a shock through your system deeper than you've felt so far. It hums on the edge of every nerve, vibrating through your bones. It feels like it's burning you from the inside out, it's raw and delicious and it sends you hurtling into a climax with your hands threaded through his hair. He isn't far behind, capturing your mouth to muffle his own cries as he thrusts erratically before burying himself in you. You tighten around him and it heightens the sensation of him filling you up, it feels like liquid fire. 

      Your actions slow as you both come down from your high, breathing heavily. You're trembling and barely avoid collapsing. He lays down and he's taking you with him, kissing your forehead on the way down. He's got a hand behind his head and an arm wrapped around you with your head resting on his shoulder. You shiver as you start noticing the cold air on your sweat slicked skin. You're glad you don't have to get up to reach the blankets or you might just freeze. You both lay in silence for a few minutes before it's broken by him.

“You came first...” he says casually, but his voice is smug. You huff and punch his chest, but there's no strength behind it. Your strength had quite literally been zapped out of you. You nuzzle your face into him, inhaling the scent of sex and a musk that is completely and uniquely him. You hope it rubs off on you. A few more minutes pass and you think he's fallen asleep, you're getting ready to pass out yourself, when he speaks again.  *****

“So.... Was this a pity fuck?” he asks. You sit up on your elbow to look at him.

“I mean, was this a one time thing?” he amends. Your insides are squirming nervously but you smile a little and reach over for your whiteboard. Your writing is shaky.

_Not if you don't want it to be_

“And if I don't?” he tests, sitting up. You don't want to ask, but your brain will never rest until you get an answer. Plus he's practically affixing you to the bed with his stare.

_Are we talking casual sex or_

You can't bring yourself to acknowledge the other option, the one it took you so long to figure out you actually wanted. It's evident that he wont let it drop though.

“Orrrrr?” he prompts, leaning his chin on his hand and looking at you knowingly. Smug bastard. You squirm under his gaze and stare at the pattern on the covers again. You feel your face heating up. You hate that he can unravel you with nothing more than those pretty eyes and his huge ego.

_Ugh you know exactly what I mean_

He wont let you off that easy. He simply keeps looking at you. You sigh.

_Dammit Ulric are you going to ask me out?_

“Do you want me to?”

Ah, fuck it.

_Yes_

His grin widens and he plucks the whiteboard out of your hands, leaning in to kiss you again.

 

 


End file.
